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I created a tumblr to follow a few friends with. This is what I wrote by way of intro, and I thought that it would fit here too. It's a bit of a more articulate version of a few posts smashed together. Some of it will be familiar, some of it may not. I'm always open to questions.



This is me. I’ve been in hiding for a long time, in more ways than one. I started out as a very out, proud, vocal, active individual and then I met someone who wanted to “take care of me.” It got complicated from there. As a woman with a disability who had basically been raised to think this was what I should be looking for—even though I didn’t really want it—I fell into his trap. Like I said, complicated. My agoraphobia got paralyzingly bad, my health went to shit, and I went through a pretty big trauma. My abuser became my “safe person.” My safe person basically told me to stop dreaming, or really doing anything. I lost my local community in a big way, because not a lot of people could deal with what happened to me. I still haven’t got that community back. I hid in my house Emily Dickinson style, and not even my first love of writing could save me from the constant emotional abuse. I hit rock bottom—which was several leagues down from “trapped in a house with an abuser,” and things were pretty grim. I’m basically coming back from the impossible, working up from a situation I probably shouldn’t have been able to recuperate from. But I have, and I am coming out of the hole.

So I refuse to be quiet about who I am.

I am a woman with a disability. I am bisexual. I am kinky. And whatever I am on the gender spectrum, it isn’t cis. I probably would never have chosen a single one of those identity markers, because none of them are easy, but they’re all me. I have two heroes in life, and they’re nobody famous. One is my gay uncle Robert who was a gay rights and AIDS activist until the day he died. The other is my best friend, who has been with me through every up and down, every unkind word and every day I was afraid to leave the house. She listens to everything and anything I have to say, even the stuff I don’t feel right admitting to anyone, she supports me in basically anything and everything I want to do, and most of all she never gave up on me for one second, even when it wasn’t clear how much of me was going to come back from the brink.

I am a deist. I believe life and faith are way too complicated to be understood fully, and I don’t know what God is doing or how things work but I know that God exists. Near death experiences will do that to a person. I talk to spirits, I see auras, and I’m an empath, and none of that means I’m crazy.

I have cerebral palsy and I use a power wheelchair most of the time, but I’m working out and I try to walk a little every day because I can. In my young, uppity days, I ran disabledsex.org and I’ve had the bizarre experience of being approached by Dan Savage to respond to a letter he got. Sometimes I miss those days, but most of the time I don’t.

I am a liberal, in all senses. I believe passionately in GLBT rights, disability rights, free speech, AIDS activism, health care for all people, and the basic human right of being who you are, being with the people you want to be with, having the family that you choose, having the family that you can reasonably support, and being able to manage all that on your own without prosecution, hate speech, harassment, judgment, or anything else thrown at you.

More than anything, as much as the sun rises and sets, I’m a writer. Writing pulled me back from barely living, kept me up nights creating when I literally had nothing else left in me. Writing is the reason that I’m alive today. It keeps me balanced and sane. It is my craft and my art. I barely need anything else, but I need words.


There are a lot of things I don’t understand. I’m not where I would eventually like to be in life. But after having many of these facets of myself repressed and suppressed in various situations, I am finally starting to like them all again, and I own every single one. As I recently heard from an amazing little boy, “If you don’t like me in a dress, you’re not my friend.” I don’t wear dresses—I’m allergic to them—but if anything in this blog post makes you squirm in a bad way, well, you can either choose to back away slowly or you can learn. I’m an open book, and I probably always will be. I don’t shy away from any questions. This is who I am and what this space is about.



In a galaxy far, far away, I used to write fan fiction. If you want to see that, it's here: http://samidha.dreamwidth.org/1207016.html
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samidha

December 2012

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